You open yourself up to suffering
by hannahorgrace
Summary: "She must feel something too. People don't get scared of their own lack of feeling, because the absence of feeling is not risky. There is nothing to lose. No; people get scared when they do have feelings, because it means losing control, it means opening up to the possibility of suffering." - Will/Alicia, set after 3x10. Inspiration found within the depths of my TGW withdrawal.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note** **:** Hello everyone! This is my first Alicia/Will fic so please bear with me. I hope I did somewhat of an okay job. I got the idea for this while re-watching season three; this takes place somewhere after 3x10. English is not my native language so I hope that I didn't make too many mistakes – my apologies if I did. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy! – hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

He doesn't leave the office until everyone else is gone. He hasn't been working on anything specific for a few hours, but staying there keeps him occupied, makes him feel like he has a place where he belongs and where people might actually need him. All the lights in the other offices are off, at least on this floor, except for the lobby and the corridors. The only sounds he can hear are coming from the outside.

He sips on the last of the scotch he has, and the lingering feeling of her in his arms, saying goodbye, ending this thing between them, is haunting him like it has been haunting him all day. He's never felt pain like this before. It's not physical pain by definition, because it's all in his head — or in his heart, even if he refuses to admit it to himself — but it's hurting in places that are very physical and he's never had this happen to him. He's never had his own feelings create this thing in his throat, in his stomach, in his lungs, this painful emptiness, like the ghost of something that used to be. Something that was right, something that made him feel like life was balanced, that everything would eventually settle and come into place and that there actually was a reason to all of this.

He forces himself to get up, to grab his coat and put it on, but when he turns off the lights and steps out of his office, the feeling remains with him. He doesn't get in his car and instead, starts walking away, leaving the building behind; maybe alcohol will help him regain his senses. He never used to think about the balance of life, or that equilibrium was something that people needed to move forward. He never thought of himself as the kind of person who ever needed anything, or anyone, to move forward.

He's not that surprised, when he enters the bar, to see Kalinda talking to another woman, in what seems like a fight for power in the game of seduction. He sits next to her and orders a drink. Kalinda looks at him, her eyes probably lingering on his even though he's looking directly into the bottom of his glass. She looks back at the woman and he doesn't hear what she says but judging by the woman's reaction, it's some sort of quick dismissal _à la_ Kalinda.

"You look terrible," she says, and signals to the waiter to bring her a glass as well.

"Thanks," he answers. "That's precisely what I was aiming for." His tone is somber, matching his sentiment.

They drink in silence for a few minutes and when they're both done, he orders another round for the two of them. Kalinda leans in a little closer.

"Alicia?" she asks. He doesn't know if he has her name written all over his face or if Kalinda's insightfulness is just as sharp as he'd expect it to be, but he doesn't answer, and the lack of answer is probably an answer of its own. She sighs and waits to see if he'll go on before she attempts any kind of unsolicited advice giving. She's not sure if she can even offer any at this time.

The waiter comes back with their drinks. Will takes a long sip before putting his glass down, and raises his head. He looks straight ahead and starts a long, miserable session of contemplating into the nothingness that is dancing before his eyes.

"She ended it," he says, his tone even darker than it was before.

Kalinda frowns. "What did she end?"

Will breathes in heavily. The last thing he wants is to explain how he got dumped by someone he wasn't even technically with, in the proper sense of _being with someone_. Whatever that meant, it wasn't really what they had, and yet Alicia had managed to break things off with him.

"Our thing" he starts. "Our thing, that we had… she ended it."

He takes another sip of his drink.

"What thing did you have?" she continues, feigning ignorance.

"Okay," he says, finally turning his body to her and looking in her general direction. "Are you _trying_ to make me feel worse?"

"I'm not," she answers, "you seem to be doing that very well on your own."

He rolls his eyes and wonders if he shouldn't just go. He doesn't need anyone to help him feel miserable; he can very well do that on his own, in his apartment, alone.

She doesn't say anymore, just lets him figure out what he's thinking and organize his thoughts and feelings before attempting to give him any advice. Honestly at this point, she doesn't even know what to tell him.

After a few minutes, he voices his conclusion. "Maybe it is better like this, actually."

Kalinda laughs an uncomfortable, questionable laugh. "Yeah, that's probably true," she ironizes. "There's plenty of women _just_ like Alicia out there. That kind of feeling is always _just_ around the corner."

Will thinks maybe he wants to hit her. But he's not so sober now, and for some reason he's not sure he would win so easily in a fight against Kalinda.

"Then what do you suggest I do?!" he asks, and he has a little difficulty in shutting down his feelings now that the alcohol is racing through his blood. "I can't give her—" Kalinda's eyes widen and he realizes he's being loud. "I can't give her what she wants, okay?" he mutters. "I don't even know what she wants."

He plays with the olive and the toothpick that have been abandoned at the bottom of a martini glass and it takes a few minutes for him to realize that it's not his olive, and it's not his toothpick, and it's not his martini, because he didn't order a martini, and he's playing with an olive that's in somebody else's glass, and a toothpick that's probably been in somebody else's mouth. He smirks and suddenly, his brain comes up with this metaphor of Alicia being an olive and he's playing with the olive but in the end the olive isn't his to play with. His brows knit at the _worse_ metaphor anyone could possibly have ever thought of and he tells himself he shouldn't think of metaphors when he's been drinking. And he shouldn't think of Alicia when he's been drinking. He probably shouldn't think of her at all.

"You're a coward, Will," Kalinda blurts, out of nowhere.

He scowls. "What?"

She continues. "It's like everything has always been handed out to you on a little silver plate and all you have to do is to just be there and collect it."

Will frowns. He has no idea what she's talking about.

"I don't get it," she explains, "because you're usually so eager to accept a challenge and put on a fight for something when you really want it—"

"I have!" he interrupts her, "I've tried to tell her that I care, but K, I don't think she _wants_ to hear it."

Kalinda says. "That's your problem, Will. You've _tried_."

He sighs. "She's putting up a wall."

"Of course she is. She's hurt. She's probably telling herself that if she doesn't have to deal with her feelings then she doesn't risk getting hurt again. She's seen her family broken down and been exposed for everyone to see. Her feelings, her pain and humiliation were just scattered around for weeks on _national television_ , Will. How do you think she feels about sharing what she feels now?"

Kalinda sighs and Will resumes his contemplation of the bottom of his half-empty glass.

"It's one thing being rejected by someone after you've spilled it to them. But did you ever actually tell her how you feel?" Her voice softens as he seems to understand what she's telling him. " _Trying_ is worthless in this situation." Kalinda takes a sip of her drink and he mechanically imitates her gesture. "Do you remember two years ago when she didn't get a message that you'd left her?" Will gulps the last of his drink. "When she asked you what was on the message and you lied about it being nothing, was that part of you _trying_ to make her understand?"

He sighs. "I don't think she'll listen to me." The melancholy in his voice is almost palpable.

"Then _make her_."

Will stares at her. Maybe Kalinda's right. Maybe he hasn't made it clear enough, because he _is_ a coward, and his pride and something else — something that he can't quite put his finger on — are preventing him from speaking his mind. _Why_ , though? He is suddenly very aware of the feeling of painful emptiness that has been bothering him all day, to say the least, but now it seems to be accompanied by a feeling of empowerment, as if the hopelessness of the situation could actually be challenged.

He frowns, looking straight ahead, eyes hesitant.

Or maybe it's just the alcohol.

"She's ignoring her feelings, Will. She's never going to address them if you don't give her a reason to."

She finishes her drink and gets up, leaving a bill on the counter. "Not now though because you're not making a lot of sense," she says, pointing at his glass, "and you're not looking that good." He frowns, but then smiles awkwardly. "But if you want this… _thing,_ with Alicia," she stresses, using his own words, "figure out how you feel about her, because the last thing she needs right now is uncertainty."

Kalinda gets up, nods in his direction, slips out and vanishes into the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note** **:** Hello everyone! First of all, I would like to thank all the people who took the time to review the previous chapter. It means the world to me to hear from you and know your opinion. I had already written most of the second chapter when I posted the first one two weeks ago, but reading your reviews made me want to work more on it so that I could bring you something that hopefully will satisfy you. Thank you for reading this one, I really hope you enjoy it! - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

It's been two days since his conversation with Kalinda and Will hasn't talked to Alicia yet. Well, he has talked to her, but he hasn't _talked_ to her. Each and every one of their conversations, however long — albeit they tend to be rather short these days — is filled with the heavy weight of unfinished business. He can feel it every time she's in his office, in the way she stands closer to the doorframe than she used to. Or how she holds files against her chest in a protective manner whenever he approaches her.

She's putting up a wall again.

He thinks of what they used to be like around each other. Before all of it, before he had even had the indecency to claim her lips with his, to hold her in his arms, to cherish her skin and adore her heart. He thinks of exchanging looks with her, sometimes a little longer than necessary, sometimes furtive, sometimes just because. He remembers how easy it was, because even if they hadn't really been around each other for years, they had known each other before, and they had shared something that not even time could take away from them.

Will makes his way to the kitchen and pours a glass of scotch, mentally congratulating himself for thinking of buying more for his apartment, and reminding himself that he needs to buy some as well for his office.

He decides to make a plan. _Yes_ , he thinks, _a plan makes sense_ , because Alicia likes things to be organized. On the other hand, throwing his feelings at her does not make sense. He makes a list of why it does not make sense (Alicia likes lists.).

1\. Alicia probably knows, to some extent, how he feels about her. She _must_ know. She can't be entirely unaware. She knows him, and he knows her, and if she's scared of this _thing_ that they have, then it means she knows, or suspects, how he feels for her. And she must feel something too. People don't get scared of their own lack of feeling, because the absence of feeling is not risky. There is nothing to lose. No; people get scared when they do have feelings, because it means losing control, it means opening up to the possibility of suffering. Relinquishing control and giving someone else the opportunity to cause pain.

He takes a sip of his drink.

2\. He's pretty sure that words don't mean that much to her anymore. Although he doesn't want to generalize, if there is anything that he's learned about women, it's that actions speak louder than words.

He frowns. Where that cheesy philosophy came from, he has no idea. He takes another sip.

3\. Considering these two points, Will figures that she needs more than just the knowledge of how he feels about her. _Well_ , he thinks, he does need to tell her, of course, but he needs to give her more than that. He needs to make her understand that he can give her what she needs.

He suddenly feels very inadequate. She has a whole life already, a husband, and two children. Whatever worries she has, how could he possibly compete with that?

He pours himself another drink. In the kitchen, the microwave informs him that it's 9.34 pm.

He thinks about all the arguments he can come up with and how he should present them to her. He's good at this, usually. It's basically what he does every day in court: introducing all the arguments in his case to make judges and juries rule in his favor.

But this has nothing to do with a case, and Alicia is neither a judge nor a juror. It won't matter to her what seems fair or unfair, just or unjust.

Will takes another sip, grabs his phone, and finds her number. He stares at the screen for a little while, then at his glass, then at the ceiling, and back to his phone. He takes a sip and dials her number.

He doesn't know how to prepare for this. His mind is going in all directions; there are too many emotions flowing through him at that moment. And the alcohol in his blood doesn't help with the thinking. But it helps keep him calm.

* * *

After having battled with about six different remotes in her living room, Alicia abandons the idea of spending her evening in front of the television with one — or more — glass(es) of Chardonnay and decides on another activity that, although intrinsically uninteresting, seems to have some sort of soothing effect on her. She takes the Chardonnay to the laundry room and starts sorting the clothes in the laundry basket by color. There seems to be more dark clothes, so she gathers them all and puts them in the machine.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

Resting the glass on the machine, she makes a mental list of who could possibly be calling her.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

Zach and Grace are with Peter for the weekend. They left about an hour and a half ago, Peter was taking them to the restaurant. And she has specific ringtones for her kids anyway.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

Owen would have called her at home first. So would have her mother. And she didn't hear her home phone ring.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

Alicia realizes she doesn't have many friends.

The phone goes silent and she decides that whoever was trying to reach her could probably just leave a message.

Retrieving her glass and taking a sip, Alicia starts the laundry machine and moves to the dryer. She empties it and starts folding the clothes.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

She sighs. She gulps the last of her drink and goes to get her phone.

She freezes.

 _Beep_ _beep_ _beep_.

Before she can even think about it, she answers the phone.

"Hello?"

The other end of the line is silent and a wave of awkwardness flows all over her.

"I'm sorry I didn't hear the phone before, I was doing the laundry," she lies.

Will sighs. He has no idea what he's doing.

"Right," he says. "Hi."

Alicia smiles. "Hi."

They stay on the phone, in silence, for a few seconds. It's not uncomfortable, but Alicia interrupts anyway.

"Will?" she tries

"Yeah," is the only thing he can come up with. _This is not what the plan was_ , he thinks.

"Did you need something?"

Her smile resonates through her voice. Will closes his eyes. _Is it always going to be like this?_ he wonders. This feeling, this gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach, when he hears her voice, when she says his name, when she's talking to _him_. When did he become that person?

He feels his heartbeat in his throat as he tries to gather himself.

"Alicia … can we talk?" He ventures. In the short seconds before she answers, he prays she says yes. Will doesn't pray. Will _never_ prays.

"Will…" she starts, but he interrupts. He can't let her say no.

"Please?" he asks. "I can meet you somewhere, or — are you alone?" He pauses. He _clearly_ hasn't thought this through. "If you're alone you can come over, or I can come over —" he's babbling. He realizes it because he can hear her smile on the other end of the line.

"Have you been drinking?"

He smiles. "Yes." It's no use bothering to lie.

Silence falls on them again, overwhelming, like a curse that he doesn't know how to counter.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Will."

Her words are soft and gentle. They're not words of rejection, but rather prevention, or self-preservation. It's not that she doesn't want to see him, but she's afraid of what might happen if she does.

She's been there before, she thinks, that place that resembles a battlefield, with what she _should_ do crashing against what she _wants_ to do. She remembers Will kissing her in his office about two years ago. She remembers part of her being surprised, even taken aback by his actions, and yet another part of her sighing in relief because finally, _finally_. She vaguely recalls telling herself that she should have stopped him because it was _wrong_ , but how could it have been wrong when it had felt so _right_? It was in the way he had looked at her, and she had _known_ what he was going to do, she would be lying if she said she hadn't. She remembers shivering just from looking into his eyes, and yet being unable to look away, almost as if she had dared him not to kiss her. She had barely even responded then, had barely let her lips move under his because _no, I'm married_ , but then his eyes had claimed hers again and her heart had answered faster than her brain could ever have.

Alicia snaps out of her reverie, realizing neither of them has spoken.

For lack of a better answer, Will tries humor. "I know, I shouldn't drive when I've been drinking. Maybe it's best if I take a cab."

She laughs. And he laughs because she laughs, and because he knows her, and he thinks maybe that's stronger than this wall she's building around herself again. Maybe his passion is greater than her fears.

She ponders the idea for a while. She doesn't want them to be awkward, and she knows they will be if she rejects him now. But she knows what he wants to talk about, and she's not sure if it's a conversation they should be having.

"Will —"

"Let me fight for you." His interruption comes unexpected for both of them.

He can hear her sharp breath break the silence on the other side of the line. But in the short seconds after he speaks, she doesn't interrupt him. For some reason he holds his breath, as if he's afraid of disturbing their silence. But the stillness sounds like hope, and it encourages him to go on.

"I know it's complicated," he starts, and he immediately admonishes himself silently — as if she needs to be reminded that _it's complicated_ — and quickly finishes his thought, "but I think it's worth — I _know_ it's worth it."

Her silence is not comforting, and he realizes his voice is probably shaky — unsteady, at best — but she's not stopping him, and the words tumble out of his mouth as if all they have been waiting for is to be spoken.

"I don't want to give up on this," and he still does not know what _this_ is, doesn't know what to call _them_ , but he pictures her in the elevator, and he remembers kissing her then. He remembers taking her hand, to give them both confidence, because she had said yes to him then but he had needed to hold her hand to be certain, so that she would give him the courage to do what he had forbidden himself from doing so many times before. So that he could make sure she was in with him on this. He remembers slowly walking her to the side of the elevator and brushing her hair behind her ear, remembers her eyes closing as he had captured her lips with his, finally, _finally_ , and how his heartbeat had raced as she had slid her hand around his neck, holding him, holding herself. Their hands had run everywhere, sliding under his jacket and under her skirt, her breath warm against his lips, his pulse breaking speed records, and they had been like teenagers in the way it had felt like time wasn't going fast enough, like more was never _enough_.

Will opens his eyes, the memory fueling his speech.

"I want you. I want to _be_ with you. There's nothing I want more than that."

He hears her quivering breath, and he doesn't know if she's crying, but then she exhales softly and tries to steady her voice.

"I don't know what to do, Will." It comes out as a whisper, and he thinks maybe she lowers her voice so that he doesn't hear the tears that are threatening to flow out.

"Let me come over." He tries, his throat tight with apprehension, struggling to make his words be heard clearly.

She doesn't speak. Will doesn't know, with the way their conversation started, how he got her to be the silent one.

"Alicia?"

He hears the beating of his heart as loud as a drum, measuring her silence; each beat louder, each second heavier.

"You're not —" he starts, and then, "I'm coming over."

He waits for a response.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

On the fourth, she takes a breath, but says nothing.

The line goes dead.

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** Hi again. Thanks for reading! Sorry for that suspenseful ending (it's not even that suspenseful), but I needed to end this chapter somewhere and this just made sense to me. I would really love to hear your thoughts on this, it would really help me with the following chapter, as your previews reviews did with this one. I'm not sure exactly where I'm going to take this story but I have some ideas written down already which I hope you will enjoy, so if you'd like to read more, please let me know! Thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note** **:** Hello everyone! I would like to thank all the people who took the time to review this story as well as everyone who takes the time to read it. Thank you also to the people who followed it or faved it, it means a lot! Without further ado, I'll leave you with the third chapter of this story. I sincerely hope you enjoy it. As always, thank you for reading. - hannahorgrace

 _\- This takes place almost immediately after the end of the previous chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"Hey," he says as she opens the door.

His smile is genuine, but he looks sad. Nostalgic, she thinks. "Hey," she smiles back.

It's less awkward than she thought it would be. He follows her into the kitchen, she pours him a glass of wine and refills her own. They clink glasses, the tinkling of the crystal the only sound interrupting their quietness. It all looks too familiar, and yet there is a foreign feeling growing heavier in between them. Apprehension, or caution maybe.

Will thinks Alicia is different. She seems guarded when she moves, and cautious, in the way it seems she chooses her words carefully so as to not cause any turmoil.

"How was court yesterday?" she asks, breaking the uneasy silence with the easy topics.

"Good, good," he nods, feeling a certain sense of relief and thankfulness at her ability to make small talk feel comfortable. "Prosecution didn't expect for us to put Sarah's father on the stand as a witness, or at least they didn't expect it to happen so quickly during trial. They were really caught off guard with that."

She grins. "Which I assume was the point of bringing him in so early on?"

"Yes," he confirms. "It was actually Sarah's idea, which I thought would never work, considering their relationship. Turns out I was wrong."

"And you're admitting to it," she smiles.

Will chuckles. "Yeah, not something you get to see every day. Anyway, they were unprepared for cross and the prosecutor is this new kid who looks like he doesn't know who put him there and why, so he asked for a continuance."

"Didn't you try to fight it?" she wonders.

"I did, but the judge went with him on that one," he says, taking a sip of his wine. "Gives us more time to prep the rest of the witnesses, anyway."

She smiles, but doesn't answer. The weight of the conversation she knows they're about to have slowly changes from an unpleasant worry to a suffocating anguish. She walks to the living room and sits on the couch, shortly followed by Will.

A week ago, he would have sat just a little closer. He would have put his arm around her and she would have laid her head onto his shoulder. But he doesn't, and she doesn't look at him. That's one of the things he misses the most, the look in her eyes. Sometimes tender, sometimes sexy, always caring. He can't see her eyes now, but he imagines he wouldn't find any of this in them if he could.

"Alicia," he starts, and he can almost see her close down as she slowly puts that figurative wall in between them again. She doesn't look at him but he knows he has her attention. "I don't want to things to end the way they did the other day."

She doesn't say anything, so he goes on. "I mean," he continues, looking down at his hands, thinking of how it would feel to hold hers again. She's still not looking at him so, slowly, he takes one of her hands in his, caressing it softly. "I don't want to end things at all. I want to give this a shot." His voice is steady, firm, as he tries to express how much this means to him.

Slowly, she takes his hand in hers, intertwines their fingers together, then brings his hand to her mouth and presses her lips against his knuckles, softly.

His heart jumps in his chest and he wants to move, to take her in his arms and kiss her with everything he has, but something in her affection feels unnatural. As though she could hear him and had heard his thoughts, she puts his hand back down and finally raises her eyes to meet his.

"Will," she starts, her voice so soft, as if the words won't be as painful if she says them quietly. "I don't think we can do this."

He sighs. "I don't know anything about this, Alicia, I'm not good at… sharing feelings. But I've only ever felt this way with you. It's just — you're the only one —", and as he looks for the right words to finish that sentence, he realizes he doesn't need to add more, so he whispers, for confirmation. "You're the only one."

"Will…" she starts, but he's not done yet.

"I know you're married, and I know I'm not supposed to be in love with you," and she tries to hide it but he hears her gasp as he says the words, "but it's not —", he interrupts himself, having trouble putting the right words onto his feelings. "I want to feel like this. I want to _be_ with you."

She looks down, her voice low. "I have a family, Will."

"I know you do, I'm not saying I can ever compete with that — and I don't want to, Alicia. That's not what I'm saying —"

"Then what are you saying," she cuts him off, before she can let his words affect her any more than they already have. "Because I don't see how this is supposed to work, Will."

He doesn't know how to handle this. Anything he says, she takes down, piece by piece. He doesn't know what he can give her that will make her reconsider them, because she's not thinking of them, she's not even thinking of herself. She's putting her family first; Peter, their children. Her happiness and well being come after that.

He doesn't stand a chance.

"You said you were happy," he recalls suddenly, and he flashes back to her sitting in his lap, his arms around her, stroking the skin at the small of her back, both of them naked and basking in the comfort of their intimacy. "You said it was the happiest you'd ever been," and his tone holds no sense of question, not wanting to give her the opportunity to tell him it was lie.

"Yes," she starts, at first not wanting to be dishonest, but then, "Will, it was in the moment. Of course I was happy," and she doesn't know how to put this, how she can ever think of a lie that will sound true enough for him to believe her, "but we can't lose our heads over a few months of temporary happiness."

He frowns. "You don't mean that," he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible. His eyes are pleading with her, his lips tense with sorrow. She hates that she's hurting him. She wishes he hadn't come. But maybe this is what she needs to do, both for him and for herself.

"Was there ever anything else?" She asks, and by asking she tries to convince herself that the answer is _no_ , but her voice is trembling and a part of her begs him to see beyond her lying words. She catches her breath and holds herself straight, steady. Indifferent.

"Alicia," he starts, leaning in closer to her. He's overthrown by her question. Surely she can't possibly mean that. "You're not — you don't believe that."

His voice is hoarse, and for the first time since he got to her apartment he feels angry. She's not being fair. They have — or _had_ — something, and she can't simply disregard it as if it didn't mean anything, as though all it had ever been about was sex.

"You don't mean that," he adds.

She bites her lip, willing herself to keep quiet. Of course she doesn't mean it. It was always so much more between them. Even from the beginning, back in Georgetown; she remembers their study sessions, hours spent cramming for criminal procedure, burden of proof and probable cause, but mostly she remembers watching him, and later at night, alone in her bed, thinking of what it would feel like if he were to hold her in his arms, just for a minute. They'd hugged before of course, had held each other, she remembers, but what would it be like if he _really_ held her? If she could just slide her arms around his chest and lay her head in his neck, feel the warmth of his skin and his arms holding her around the waist. What would it look like if this was who they were? What would it feel like to be loved by _him_?

She shuts down her younger self, eyes closed as she fights the emotions flowing over her, memories and fantasies taking over her mind.

It had always been _more_ with them. But it was impossible, and she couldn't allow that brief parenthesis, those little out-of-time moments they'd shared recently, to make her lose control.

"It was bound to end sooner or later, Will. There's no room, in either of our lives, for this."

He tenses up again, his voice harsh, throwing the words at her. "Is that what you think it was, an insignificant, pointless affair? Some sort of trivial distraction?"

She sighs in defeat. "That's not fair, Will."

He laughs.

"Yeah, I'm the one that's being unfair," he says, his tone accusing.

She gets up from the couch and walks around the table to face him, creating distance between them. "Yeah, you are," and her voice is louder, her tone almost hostile. "We can't keep doing this, and you can't just show up at my place and think that I'm going to abandon everything because this feels like right timing for _you_. It's not, Will. It never was." The words come flowing out of her mouth in a mix of anger and despair. She never thought it would be so difficult to push him away, to make him understand that there is no way out for them, no possibility of an outcome. She never thought he would put so much effort into trying to convince her otherwise.

When she looks back at him, his eyes are staring into her living room, but he doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. She lies to herself in silence, telling herself that his eyes aren't glistening, that it's just the ceiling light reflecting in his gaze, and as she listens to herself, she feels a wave of self-resentment washing over her. Her throat feels tight again, and the air burns when it fills her lungs. She never thought she was capable of this.

Slowly, he stands, avoiding her gaze, searching for his jacket instead.

"I'm gonna go," he says, and his voice is dull, his eyes settling on everything but hers.

She is slowly overcome by a sudden wave of panic, like a weight pressing against her chest, preventing her from taking full, satiating breaths, restraining her entire body. Her lips form his name, but no sound comes out.

He doesn't speak any more, just walks away from her, each step he takes a blow to her heart. She sees herself twenty years ago, hair in a ponytail, sitting in an empty classroom, both of them wearing one of these blue sweaters from Georgetown, his lips so close to hers as they talked about their future and the law firm they would be working at. She'd wondered what his reaction would have been if she had just pressed her lips against his, interrupting his thoughts, giving in to her curiosity. She had imagined him pulling her closer, sliding his arms around her waist, brushing her hair behind her ear, dragging her onto his lap.

She can feel the tears now pooling under her lids, unable to stop them, as she cherishes the vision in her mind. Will doesn't turn around, doesn't look at her when he opens the door, and the combination of her blissful illusion with the agonizing reality shatters her heart.

The door closes behind him.

Slowly, steadily, Alicia walks towards the couch, sits down, and lets the tears fall free.

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** Hi again, and thanks so much for reading! These two never have it easy, do they? I'm working on writing some lighter stuff for them in the next chapters, we all know I'm not going to leave them broken-hearted. As always, let me know if you'd like to see more and I'll gladly read your thoughts on this chapter! Thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note** **:** Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, it seems as if the inspiration bug took a vacation for a few weeks and I didn't feel like uploading something I didn't like just for the sake of uploading, so thank you for your patience. As always, I would like to thank everyone who reads and reviews, it means the world. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading. - hannahorgrace

 _\- This takes place almost immediately after the end of the previous chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"You're lucky my relationships are so unstable," Owen says as Alicia opens the door. "I'm usually never available on Saturday ni—" he interrupts himself, noticing the look on her face for the first time. "Okay, what's wrong?"

She sniffles, clearly repressing tears, avoiding the question.

"Right. Let's find ourselves a nice glass of wine, shall we?" he asks as he walks in.

"I'm already on it," she says softly, her glass of Chardonnay still in her hand, making her way to the living room.

"Is it Will?" he tries, pouring himself a glass of wine and joining her on the couch. "Do you want me to have him killed?"

Alicia smiles, her soft laughter interrupted by more sniffing.

"So we're still sure it's not love?" he asks, his tone more serious now.

She doesn't answer, avoiding his gaze, and takes a sip of her drink. She was asking herself that same question before her brother arrived. But it can't be. She isn't even sure she believes in love anymore.

"I don't know, Owen. I can't let myself go there."

"Why not?" he asks, putting his glass on the table. "Look, Alicia. It's love, it's not… murder, it's—"

"I'm married," she interrupts, the words coming to her for support, although the more she says them, the more she feels their biting irony, every time she mentions her marriage.

"Yes," Owen confirms. "We know. Husband of the year, isn't he?" he says, the sarcasm clear in his voice.

 _That's not what the problem is_ , Alicia thinks. It doesn't have anything to do with Peter. It has to do with her, and who she wants to be. And what example she wants to set for her children.

"I don't want to be that person," she says softly.

Owen smiles knowingly. "Well it's a little too late for that, isn't it?"

Alicia frowns. "You're not helping, Owen."

"Look," her brother says, "when it comes to your happiness, you don't owe anything to anyone but yourself."

"Owen, I slept with my boss. I'm married and I slept with someone _else_."

He's stunned, because it's the first time she's actually put words on her affair with Will. Owen always knew, and she knew that he knew, but she'd never talked about it with him so bluntly before. He had never heard her speak of it so openly. The only things he knew about her relationship with Will were the things he had either guessed or wormed out of her, without her ever clarifying anything about their relationship.

Maybe the Chardonnay was to blame.

"Alicia, you're not a cheater."

"How? How, Owen, how am I not a cheater? Why does it apply to Peter and not to me?"

"It's different. You're separated. Your kids know that, and so does Peter. And you're not sleeping with hookers. Will clearly isn't just a _thing_."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you, sis. If he was just your side guy, someone you sleep with a couple times out of… boredom," and she frowns at that, because she doesn't think she is the kind of person to sleep with someone out of _boredom_ , and Owen knows that. "If that's all there was between you two, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Alicia sighs. Her brother's words make sense to her, and she doesn't know if this is what she wanted from him. She wanted him to tell her that it would be okay, that they would both move on, that she would be fine… not encourage her.

"I know your marriage is important to you," he continues, "regardless of the situation between you and Peter, but sis, think about it… is that really the best example for your kids?"

She frowns, not knowing where Owen is going with the conversation, definitely not appreciating him involving her children in this debate.

"I mean, sure, trust, faithfulness and such," he rolls his eyes, seemingly not giving much care for what seem to be such overrated concepts to him. "… But what about love? Isn't that equally as important? Would it be such a terrible thing for you to admit that you and Peter are over, and that there is someone else who you might want to be with, now? Someone who actually cares for you?"

"Peter cares for me," she blurts out softly, unconvincingly.

"Okay Alicia, work with me here, please? Look, Zach and Grace are not children anymore. Honestly, they've probably had it all figured out for weeks now," and Alicia frowns at the idea. "It's not a bad thing. They're good kids. They want you to be happy. They'll understand. And I'm pretty sure they'll be happier if _you're_ happier, Alicia. You can't forget about the importance of your own happiness."

She shakes her head, giving her brother a disapproving glare. "Even if it means ending things with their father, definitively?"

Owen nods.

"And what about the campaign?"

"There's always going to be another campaign, Alicia. You're always going to have to show up. Can you just be selfish for a minute here?"

His tone is earnest, his eyes sincere. He knows she'll listen to him this way.

"You don't have to do this to yourself. You don't have to stand by him if you don't want to. Even if you agree with him, politically… you're doing it for the wrong reasons. It doesn't matter what the little angry man says, you know, the one with all the sarcasm and the condescension", and she actually laughs at Owen's description of Eli. "If you guys separate, I mean… officially, you know, they'll find a way to make it okay. I know you want to make your marriage work but… at what cost? Do you really think sacrificing your happiness would be fair? Would it even be _enough_?"

They are both silent for a few minutes, Alicia seemingly lost in thought. Owen thinks maybe his words are finally echoing with her heart.

"I don't remember when I stopped loving Peter," she says, eyes empty.

"Okay, that's surprising," he starts. "Shall I give you a reminder?" he ironizes.

Alicia rolls her eyes. "That's not what I mean—"

He interrupts. "Stop making excuses, Alicia."

She frowns. "Making excuses? What are you talking about?"

"Since you started seeing Will, it's like all you've done is make up excuses as to why you guys are not… legitimate.»

"Owen," she tries to compose herself. "I'm married. He's my boss. How more illegitimate can this get?" She searches his eyes, but he doesn't answer. "I'm not making excuses. It's just… I'm sorry, but I can't —" but she stops immediately, the smile on her brother's face telling her she's about to do exactly what he's accusing her of.

"Look," he starts softly, lowering his voice as if he's trying another persuasion technique. "Remember a few months ago, you told me you guys were on the phone and he accidentally said he loved you and—"

"I know," she interrupts, before he has a chance to re-open the debate.

"I know you know," he says, "but do you really think it was just an accident?"

She's silent. On that day, she had denied herself the freedom to think about it, to think about what it could have meant, about how much of the meaning of Will's words could possibly be true.

"Maybe he didn't mean to say it _then_ , but does it mean he didn't mean it at all?"

She's surprised her brother remembers her telling him about this conversation.

"Look, Alicia, there's only so much I can tell you, but in the end, you're the only one who knows how you feel. But if you're not happy with Peter, and you have a chance at happiness with Will— which I truly believe you do, I mean, it sounds like the guy is _madly in love with you_ , it's all very romantic, I mean really it's almost sickening," she frowns, but doesn't interrupt. "Then… why not? What do you have to lose, honestly?"

"My marriage."

"Again with the marriage thing, honestly Alicia, don't you see they're two separate issues?! Will doesn't even matter in this. You didn't stop loving Peter because you had Will as a safety net. You stopped loving him because he's a cheating bastard and he's an ass. That's it. That's reason enough. Will or no Will, Peter would still be the same guy, and he still would have done what he did. Will is just… bonus."

She's silent again, so he continues.

"Look, let's not think about it anymore. Tomorrow's Sunday, they'll be plenty of time for you to think about it. Let's just drink wine and watch TV," he says, grabbing the remote.

Alicia gets up and heads for the kitchen. Owen is right, Peter and Will are separate issues. But would she really consider leaving Peter if Will wasn't there?

When she walks back into the living room with more wine, Owen has his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Thanks", she whispers, sitting next to him.

"Anytime, sis." He wraps an arm around her and she lays her head on his shoulder. "Anytime."

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** Hi again, and thanks so much for reading! I know this isn't real progress on the Will/Alicia dynamic but at least it's progress for Alicia. This is kind of her version of the Will/Kalinda talk from the first chapter, and I think it was _much_ needed for her. Please leave me your thoughts in a review, I would love to hear what you thought about this chapter! I will try to have the next one up soon. In the meantime, I've uploaded another story a few days ago, feel free to check it out if you'd like — it's called Bliss. Thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note** **:** It's been almost two months since I last updated and I have no excuse other than the fact that I've suffered a terrible lack of inspiration. But one of you sent me a really lovely message asking if I would play Santa and update this for the holidays and I guess that was motivation enough. I hope everyone had/is having happy holidays, if you celebrate a holiday, and I hope 2017 is better than 2016.

This one is a little different from the other chapters, and a little darker, but I think Alicia needed to really see, feel and face the consequences of her own decisions. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading! - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 _They'd become pretty good at hiding, she thought. It had been a few weeks since that night in the hotel, when they had figured out that, in the end, good timing could be whenever they wanted it to be. Since then, they'd often jump at the opportunity of spending a couple of hours together, sometimes in hotel rooms after court, at his place in between meetings and sessions of witness prep, or at her place, on the weekends, when the kids were with Peter._

 _And there they were again. She had barely closed the door behind her that his lips were on her neck and his hands on her waist, trapping her between the wall and his body._

" _I don't think I'll ever get tired of this," he said, his hands roaming over her waist._

 _She smiled. "I don't think I want you to get tired of this."_

 _He chuckled against her skin as he pulled up her skirt, grateful that she'd decided against tights this morning._

" _I can't even help it, you know. I just sit there all day missing you," he said, his fingers gently stroking her over her underwear. "Wishing I could have you."_

 _After a little while, he'd figured out how to get her worked up and ready. Physically, of course, it wasn't long before he found out what she liked, and she had never been shy about guiding him — which was something that he adored about her. But he also knew what to tell her, he knew the things that he had to say to her to make her breath hitch and her lips part a little, longing for his._

 _She needed to feel wanted, he had realized. So whenever they were together, he would tell her exactly this. He would tell her how much he wanted to be with her, how long he'd been waiting to hold her body against his and feel her skin under his hands, under his mouth._

 _She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss, and slid her hand over his, pressing his hand a little harder against her body. It drove him crazy, the way she knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to show him how she wanted it._

" _I've thought about doing this all morning", he said, moving her underwear to the side and softly pressing a finger into her, gaining a soft sigh from her. "I can't get enough of you."_

" _Will…", she sighed against his lips, and it sent a shiver down his spine._

" _All I can think about is how much I want to take you."_

 _He felt her hands fumble against his belt buckle and in a few seconds she was stroking him, his lower lip caught in between hers, and when he slipped inside her he felt her knees quiver but he held her firmly, and moved until she cried out, his name on her lips. He waited as long as he could because he wanted to_ see _her, and when he followed, all_ _he could think of was how in the world he had possibly deserved to be with someone like her._

 _She let herself be held, let the strength leave her body, and for a second she felt herself fall but then she sensed his arm around her waist, holding her, and she realized it had always been there. The whole time, he had been holding her, because he was always holding her, and since they started this…_ thing _, he had always been there. She couldn't really remember the last time she'd felt secure enough to let go of her strength like this. She couldn't remember the last time she knew it was okay to let go because someone was holding her and wouldn't let her fall._

* * *

When Alicia wakes up, it takes a few seconds for her to understand her surroundings.

She's not in Will's apartment.

Will is _definitely_ not there.

And yet she can still feel him, she can feel his breath on her neck and his hands on her waist, sliding softly up her belly and over her breasts, pulling her closer to him. She can feel her skin react to his touch and he's not even here.

She looks to her left. The clock on her bedside table indicates 2:27 am.

She takes a deep breath and, pulling the covers closer to her, she closes her eyes and lets a hand slide in between her thighs.

God, she misses him. Her body misses him. Hell, her bedsheets miss him.

Her fingers move softly against her skin and quickly, her breathing becomes shallow.

When she lets go, his name is on her lips, and she lets herself pretend he's there with her. She imagines him wrapping his arms around her and settling behind her, his bare chest against her back, his lips pressing soft kisses against her shoulder.

She's never been the kind of person that has trouble sleeping, but in times of worry, she sometimes has trouble _falling_ asleep. Will's presence helped with that.

So when she closes her eyes and imagines his lips on her skin and his arm around her waist, her body remembers his warmth, and it's only a few minutes before she's asleep again.

* * *

Walking into Lockhart/Gardner on Monday is not as awkward as she'd imagined it would be. She quickly makes her way to her office, thankful she doesn't cross his path on her way in.

She knows she will eventually. But she has no idea what his reaction will be. She doesn't know what he thinks, if he's upset or even mad at her, and she doesn't like not knowing.

She's in court all afternoon and when the verdict comes in, it's past 8 pm, so she decides to go straight home.

* * *

Tuesday morning is rather quiet. She spends most of it in her office, only stepping out when she absolutely needs to. The case she's working on with Diane involves a woman who is accused of killing her husband in order to benefit from his life insurance. She's going over the prep questions for the accused to make sure there's nothing neither of them could have missed, since Diane is in court all morning.

By lunch time, she's seen Will walk around the floor enough times without ever walking past her office to make her wonder if he's avoiding her.

She decides he isn't.

When she walks by his office after lunch, their eyes meet for a brief second, but she hears him talking to Diane on the phone and he looks away immediately. She feels her phone ring in her hand.

"Alicia Florrick," she answers automatically.

"Alicia, it's Diane. I just got out of court, have you found anything?"

She freezes. Her gaze lands on Will, who's apparently still on the phone.

"Alicia, can you hear me?"

"Yes," she clears her throat. "It all seems fine to me. I think we're ready for tomorrow."

"Good. Let me know if that changes," Diane says, before hanging up.

She makes her way back to her office, ignoring what just happened.

The rest of the day is uneventful.

* * *

Wednesday is one of these days from hell where she doesn't even make it to the office once because of all the time spent in court. It's especially exhausting and frustrating because the jury decided their client was guilty of murder in the first degree and facing decades in prison, hours after the prosecution had offered one year only.

It's one of these days where she wonders if she's really any good at her job.

It's also the first day she realizes she actually misses him. Not just physically — because it's already been established that she misses him physically — but also as a friend. As someone who she could talk to about these days from hell.

When she's home that night, after the kids are asleep, she thinks about calling him for a brief moment, then decides against it. She wouldn't know what to say.

She searches her phone for the last texts they've exchanged. The very last one is from her; it says "Maybe next time ?"

 _W: Sorry I left while you were still sleeping. I had court at 9._

 _A: You could have woken me up._

 _W: I could, but I decided you deserved to rest._

 _A: You bought breakfast._

 _W: Yes. After all that exercise last night, the least I can do is buy you food._

 _A: Then I hope you bought breakfast for yourself as well, Mr Gardner._

 _W: I did. If you'd woken up earlier you would have seen me eat breakfast in your kitchen._

 _A: If I'd woken up earlier, we would have had a different kind of breakfast entirely._

 _W: In your room?_

 _A: Or the shower._

 _W: Promises, promises._

 _A: Maybe next time?_

* * *

On Thursday afternoon, they share a brief conversation about a case that they're both working on. It's all very professional, and then her phone interrupts them.

"It's Peter," she says, for no other reason than to fill the silence.

"Seems important," he answers, before walking away.

Peter wants to know if she doesn't mind going to dinner with him and a few investors, whose wives will also be attending. It's the last thing she wants to do.

"Okay. When?" she asks.

"Next Monday. Thanks, Alicia."

"Sure," she answers, not convinced. "I'll see you then."

She stares into Will's office. He's standing by his desk, talking to one of the new interns, who says something that makes Will laugh.

Alicia sighs and walks back to her office.

* * *

Friday goes back in a rush because it's the end of the week and everyone is trying to do all the things they planned on doing by the end of the week. She doesn't have time to keep track of Will's whereabouts; she doesn't even have time to keep track of time.

When she steps out of her office, she sees Will saying goodbye to one of the associates, coat in hand. Very aware of what she's doing, she stops, silently counts to ten, and then turns around, walking slowly enough so that she reaches the elevator just after him. _Ridiculous_ , she thinks to herself.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi Will," she nods, feeling her lips curl into a soft smile.

"You know what," he starts, and immediately, her heart feels heavy, because she knows what he's doing, she's known all week, even though she tried to tell herself otherwise. "I think I left my phone in the office."

"I can hold the elevator," she offers, but he's already stepping back, slowly, and she feels her heart grow so, so heavy, like a burden she can't get rid of.

"Nah," he says, "I'll catch the next one."

She steps into the elevator and holds herself together all the way back to her apartment.

Finally, when the kids are asleep and she closes her bedroom door behind her, she lets herself slide to the floor, because no one is there to hold her, not even herself. She cries softly, silently, until she can't feel anything anymore.

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** Hi again, and thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this, please leave me your thoughts in a review, I would really like to know what you thought of this chapter! I will try to have the next one up soon. Also, thank you to everyone who has favorited/reviewed my other story, it means a lot. Thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note** **:** I can't believe I am the worst at updating in the whole history of updating, but I am. However, here's a little Valentine's Day present for those of you who are still reading this, in spite of my lack of consistency in updating this story. I'm terribly sorry for the wait and I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thanks a lot to the people who reviewed my last chapter, thanks to the people who favorite/followed this story, and if any new readers are joining us, welcome to the party. I hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

On Saturday morning, Alicia decides it's useless to dwell on the past.

Before Grace and Zach wake up, she has time to work on a case and clean her entire bedroom. She has breakfast with her children; they tell her stories from school and she discusses some of the cases, avoiding criminal cases, as always, until Grace asks if she's defended any assassins lately.

She decides to go grocery shopping.

Grace goes with her to the store, asks if they can buy powdered sugar for the icing of the cake they've decided to bake when they get back home. She nods as, unexpectedly, her memory flashes back to Will, eating icing off of her lips, leftover from a cake that Grace had baked for her birthday. She stands frozen in the aisle, a shiver running down her back.

" _You taste good," he whispered, kissing the sugar off her lips through a smile. "This is a nice breakfast."_

 _She laughed. "Grace wanted to bake a birthday cake for me before she left for the weekend. I think my kids think I get lonely when they're not around."_

 _He moved around the table then, wearing only his underwear, softly sliding a hand on her hip when he reached her. "Do you?" he asked, the hand on her hip pulling her towards him. "Get lonely?"_

 _She looked up and smiled to him, and pressed her lips against his as his hands gently stroke her back._

 _After a few seconds, he pulled away softly, his eyes looking down in between them._

" _I uh," he started, hesitant. "I got you something."_

 _She frowned. "Will."_

" _Okay, don't," he said softly, running a hand on her arm, "don't give me that look."_

 _He could see she was still frowning, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that told him he had done the right thing._

" _I didn't know if you needed anything, I mean—", he continued, walking to her bedroom where his coat was, and coming out carrying a white bag she hadn't noticed was there before. "I wanted to get you something nice, but… yeah."_

 _He handed her the bag, tied with a black silk ribbon on top, and she felt her heart beat faster in her chest, unable to control her excitement. She hoped it didn't show too much._

" _You really didn't need to get me anything," she said as she pulled on the silk._

 _He smiled. "I know."_

 _She pulled out the white wrapping tissue and in it, a black jacket. She took it out, touching the material, the black leather on the pocket flaps and on the collar, noticing the brand on the tag there._

" _Will…"_

" _Don't," he interrupted her. He stepped closer to her, searching for her eyes._

" _I wanted to get you something nice, something that I could actually see you wearing. I don't know if this is a good gift, but…"_

 _The truth is, he didn't want to get her jewelry. He didn't want to get her jewelry because he was afraid she would think it meant something if he did. Not that he wanted to give her something meaningless, because that wasn't the case. But he felt like jewelry was too much. And judging by her reaction when she saw the jacket, he assumed correctly._

 _Alicia looked into his eyes, and he seemed so sincere, and so pleased that he had given her something. She removed her sweater and tried it on._

" _If you don't like it, I kept the receipt if you want to—"_

" _I love it," she interrupted, checking her reflection in the mirror, in the entrance._

" _Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were shining with happiness as he made his way to her. "It suits you."_

 _She was wearing only her underwear, a white t-shirt and well, the jacket, but he thought she looked amazing. Looking at her then, watching her survey her own reflection in the mirror, spinning on her heels to look at it from different angles, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He felt his heart clench in wonder, his eyes following her every move, mesmerized._

 _She turned to him and smiled. "Thank you," she said, almost a whisper, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to accept his gift because it really was too much, but she did like it, and he seemed so happy._

 _She looked up to him and smiled, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth where some icing sugar was left. "You taste good too," she whispered softly._

"Mom?"

Her daughter's voice brings her back to reality so she smiles, walking to where Grace is standing.

"I was just thinking about what else we need," she says.

"I think that's all for the cake! But we're out of olive oil," Grace reminds her.

"Right," Alicia answers. "That's what I was thinking about," she smiles.

Grace smiles back and without a word, pulls her mother in for a quick hug.

"What was that for?" Alicia chuckles.

"I don't know," Grace starts, walking away. "You just looked happy. It's nice."

When they get back home, Zach helps them with the baking of the cake, and they end up ordering pizza while it's in the oven. After lunch, she sits on the couch with her children, Grace curled up against her shoulder, and she thinks of Will, she thinks of her _with_ Will, and with her children sitting next to her, she thinks of what they could have been.

But she can't change who she is, and she can't change her life. She needs to leave the past in the past, so she decides to speak to Will, so they can both do just that.

* * *

The beginning of the week is as agitated as can be. Still, she finds time to make her way to Will's office sometime during the afternoon.

"Hey," she says as his eyes meet hers.

"Hey," he answers, his voice low.

Hesitantly, she walks into his office. "Can we talk?"

He frowns, barely noticeable. "Now?"

Alicia closes the door behind her, not giving him a choice. "Will…"

She walks until she reaches his desk, but doesn't sit.

"I'm…" she starts, sitting down. "Are you mad at me?"

She senses his eyes on her and before he even speaks, she feels the sorrow in them. He doesn't answer right away so she goes on.

"You're… avoiding me, aren't you?" she says, straightening her skirt.

His lips curl up into an unsure smile, but he's frowning. "I'm not mad."

Alicia nods, going along with him. "Okay, but… you're not avoiding me?" she asks again, and her voice is soft, and she knows it's shaky but she can't control her nerves.

"No, no, not at all, it's just been busy around here," he answers, gaze shifting.

She nods.

"Will?" she asks, almost in a whisper.

"Yeah," he answers, focusing on the pile of files in between them on his desk.

"You're not even looking at me," she breathes.

He swallows, his hand covering his mouth, as if to prevent the words from coming out. "I'm doing the best I can, Alicia."

Her heart tightens in her chest.

"I never wanted it to be this way," she whispers.

He nods, "I know."

He waits for her to speak again but she doesn't. They stay like this for a minute or two, the silence filling in the space around and in between them. She wants to move, she wants to say something, but the weight of their exchange is preventing her from speaking.

"Look," he says, getting up from his chair, and she hates the way he sounds all business-like; he's treating her like he would a client. "It'll all… fade away, sooner or later. So, until then, we just try to make it work, okay?"

The words come to her before she can wrap her mind around the idea. "Maybe I should leave."

His eyes shoot up to meet hers.

She sighs. "This is not sane, Will. For either of us."

His voice rises. "What are you talking about?"

"It's not sane and it's not fair," she continues, but stops talking when he walks around the desk.

"Alicia," he starts, his voice so low it makes a shiver go down her spine. "Don't."

"You say it'll fade away but Will—"

"It'll be fine," he interrupts. "This has nothing to do with work."

She looks into his eyes and he stares right back.

"It'll be fine," he repeats. "We just have to go back to the way it was before."

She frowns.

"I mean, back to the way it was _before_."

Before she can say anything else, her phone rings, bringing her back to reality.

She sighs. It's Peter.

"I should take this," she says, not mentioning the identity of the caller.

He nods, walking back behind his desk as she steps out of his office.

"Hey," Peter says when she answers. "Are we still on for tonight?"

 _Dammit_ , she thinks.

"Yes," she sighs, remembering he'd asked her to come to dinner with him and whoever else he needs to impress tonight. "I'm coming straight from the office though, I still have some work to do."

"Alright," he says. "I made reservations for 8 pm. Can you be there on time?"

"Yes," she answers. "I'll see you there."

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** First of all, thank you for still being here. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know in a review, I would really like to read your thoughts on this! Your reviews help me a lot because they help me figure out what you want to read next. This chapter was quite short BUT, I am actually almost done with the next chapter, so it will be up soon, and this is a promise. By the way, for those of you who were wondering, I do plan on getting these two their deserved happy ending at some point (this also is a promise). Might be sooner than you think! Again, thank you for following this story, and thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note** **:** Hello everyone, I'm back with a new chapter to this story! Thanks a lot for your support and reviews, and to those of you who have recently joined us, welcome! This is a bit longer than what I usually post but it would have just been rude to split this into two parts. Thanks a lot to the people who reviewed my last chapter and thanks to the people who favorited/followed this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

Dinner with Peter and his friends is as dull and uninteresting as she'd predicted, although in his defense, he's trying his best to keep everyone entertained, including her. She tries to take part in the conversation, tries to sound lively when she's asked about her job, until she realizes Peter only asked about her current cases to try to make her feel included, but it doesn't seem like anyone cares. All the men seem to have jobs in the financial department of obscure corporations she's vaguely heard of before, without really understanding what they were about. None of the women work, except for one, who is a part-time English teacher in a private school, and well, Alicia.

"Paul wants to be in politics," the man sitting in front of her says. She tries to remember his name, but there was a lot of new information in the last hour and she's on her second glass of red wine. "Or the Senate," he adds, "I'm not sure. It changes a lot."

"Mike's son is going to law school in Loyola next year, here in Chicago," Peter tells her.

"He is," Mike goes on. "I don't understand his choice, I keep telling him to go into finance, but you know how kids can be."

Mike's wife laughs then, brushing her straight blonde hair behind her elbow. "Paul said the same thing to me the other day. I told him that going into finance was the smart choice, but he said he doesn't want to be like his father," she says, still laughing. "He said we're smothering him, can you believe this?"

Peter laughs softly, and she frowns, because she realizes she doesn't know if he thinks it's funny, or if he just doesn't want anyone to be uncomfortable. She sighs, and takes another sip.

"So, Alicia," Mike starts, "how long are you thinking of staying at Lockhart/Gardner?"

"How long?" she frowns. "However long they'll have me there, I guess."

He laughs, obviously amused. "But Peter is working again."

 _Oh_ , she thinks, and she casts a glance at Peter quickly. He doesn't say anything, just smiles.

"Indeed he is," is all she manages to say.

"How old are your children?" he asks, and she smiles at him, taking a sip of her wine.

"Zach is sixteen, Grace is fourteen."

"That's nice," he says. "What do they think about their mom being back in the workforce?"

Peter laughs an uncomfortable laugh, and again, she doesn't know if he's trying to tell her something or if he genuinely thinks the guy's being funny.

"I think they like it better this way," she starts. "At least when I come home, they're happy to see me. And Grace wants to be a lawyer now," she says, looking to Peter with a smile, "I think we're doing a good job with them."

"It's always good for a woman to be a lawyer," and Alicia frowns, wondering if it's a backhanded compliment. "You know, when the judge is a man."

Everyone else laughs but her, and her next sentence comes out too quickly for her to reconsider.

"Of course," she starts, "because that's the only way women can be good at their job."

The general laughter quickly fades, and she can feel Peter's eyes on her, but she looks straight into Mike's eyes.

When the plates have been taken away and the bottles have been emptied, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom.

Washing her hands, she briefly catches her reflection in the mirror but quickly looks away. She dries her hands, walks out and stops suddenly, almost hitting Peter on her way out.

"What was that?" he asks, voice low but strong.

"What was what?" she refuses to answer.

"Alicia, I need you to do this for me," he says, eyes piercing.

She chuckles, ironic. "I don't think I want to do this anymore, Peter."

"What?" he asks between his teeth.

"This is the last time," she says calmly, before walking past him and rejoining their table.

She doesn't comment on the previous topic anymore, faking a polite laugh when it feels appropriate, and everyone seems to buy it except for Peter, but she doesn't care.

She has so little care, that when the waiter comes back asking if they want desserts, she orders a mojito.

Peter frowns, and it's almost scary, but then Mike chuckles and says he'll have one as well, and five minutes later she's turned Peter's political evening into a cocktail party. She didn't even mean for it, and she notices Peter seems to be taking advantage of the situation to implement some aspects of his political business into the conversation, but she doesn't care.

At 10.30, she and Peter say goodbye to the others as they leave the restaurant. Outside, he has a car waiting for them.

"It's alright," she says, "I can get a cab."

Peter scowls. "Alicia," he starts, almost condescending. "I can bring you home."

"Peter," she says, imitating his tone. "Thank you for dinner, but I'll take a cab."

He watches her, speechless, as she walks in the opposite direction and gets in a car.

* * *

"Alicia," Will says, obviously surprised. "What are you doing here?"

She had given Will's address to the cab driver, probably out of anger towards Peter. He didn't know that she wasn't going home, of course, she hadn't told him. But still, it made her feel good.

It made her feel free.

But the moment she steps into Will's building, she gets nervous. She doesn't know what she's doing. She doesn't know what she wants. She doesn't even know if Will's home.

So when he opens the door, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, she knows she looks as surprised as he does.

She looks down, trying to get her thoughts in order. "Can I come in?" she whispers.

When he doesn't move, she feels her stomach clench, the sting of rejection hitting her hard. But then,

"Sure," he speaks, moving to the side to let her in.

She doesn't walk far into his apartment, instead just stands there, eyes on him.

"Are you okay?" he asks, closing the door behind her.

She doesn't even know how to answer that question. She feels his gaze on her, quickly scanning her body before settling on her eyes.

He says her name, trying to get her attention, and immediately, she knows she shouldn't have come.

He takes a step towards her, silent, but she can see his question still lingers in his eyes.

She takes another step then, closing the distance between them, and closes her eyes as she lets her lips brush against his. It's the alcohol, she knows it's the alcohol, but it's not _only_ the alcohol, because alcohol doesn't make her do things she would never do, it makes her do things she doesn't have the courage to do.

He stands frozen against her, and she's terrified of his reaction, or lack thereof, so she opens up her mouth a little, gently capturing his lips between hers. She feels unsteady, the pounding of her heart working against her, and she almost loses her balance as she tries to focus on his reaction; but she feels his arm slide past her side and around her waist, and softly, he's pulling her closer to him, kissing her back.

She lets it all go then, as if she feels she's been granted permission, and then he's walking her backwards until she softly hits the wall. She lets her hands crawl over his arms, one hand sneaking behind his neck, fingers gently brushing through his hair. He's holding her firmly, hands on her waist, but his lips are delicate against her mouth, like it's the first time he's kissing her and he doesn't want to scare her away.

He knows she's been drinking, he can taste the rum, the sugar and the lime, but mostly he can taste her. Her lips are soft under his, her breath warm against his cheek, her skin silky under his fingers. She breathes his name softly, barely audible, and it sounds like a plea, but he doesn't know if she wants him to stop, so he doesn't.

But she's been messing with his feelings for the past couple of weeks and he wants to be mad at her, he wants to _hate_ her really but he's so in love with her, and he wants her so much, he knows it's pointless to fight.

"Alicia…" he whispers, his lips grazing the skin of her neck, and she knows he's asking _What the hell are we doing?_ , but she has no idea. She doesn't want to think anymore, she just wants to feel.

And the truth is, Will makes her feel. He makes her feel good, he makes her feel alive. He makes her feel like things are going to be okay, like she doesn't have to be on her guard all the time. Mostly, he makes her feel wanted, and she desperately needs to feel like she means something to someone.

He pushes her jacket off her shoulder so he can kiss her collarbone, and she tilts her head to the side, giving him better access. His lips feel so good on her skin, burning their way against her in a way she knows will leave bruises. She hates that thought, hates the idea of being _branded_ by someone; but it's Will, so tonight, she welcomes it.

Her fingers touch his chin and automatically, his mouth is back against hers, muffling the sigh that escapes her lips.

She thinks maybe she should go, she shouldn't even have come in the first place, but go where? Who else wants her like Will does? Who else cares for her like _Will_ does? She feels his body react against her, she feels the way his hands touch her and stroke her, she feels herself burning from the inside and she lets her mouth wander against the skin of his neck, begging him with her touch, fighting against reason, blocking out all coherent thoughts.

She surprises herself when she pulls away from him, hands on his shoulders, his hands falling from the back of her neck to her hips.

"You said you wanted to fight," she starts, reminding him of his own words from the previous week. "You said… you said it was worth it," she breathes, eyes pleading.

Because the truth it, she remembers. She remembers every word he said to her that night, from _I'm not supposed to be in love with you_ to _I want to be with you_. She remembers the way his voice sounded when he said _You're the only one_ , full of hope and passion and longing. She remembers his bright eyes when he said _I want to feel like this_ , making her heart tighten and ache in her chest because she knew, she _knows_ how he feels, because she feels it too. It's pointless to ignore it, to pretend it's not there, to act like she's indifferent, disinterested, detached enough that she can afford to push him away, but the truth is, she's not. She's not indifferent, she's not disinterested, she's not detached, she's not any of these things. She's infatuated, she's intoxicated by his love and by his care, by his want and by his need.

"Show me," she whispers.

She hears the silence around them like a thick fog, deafening, telling her to run, but she feels his eyes on her and her heart tells her to have faith, to trust him.

Maybe she can have what she wants if he shows her how to trust again.

Suddenly, he's lifting her, arms under her thighs, and she has to wrap her arms around his shoulders to hold herself stable. Before she can even think, he navigates them to his room and there, he gently lets her slide from his embrace until her feet touch the ground. He kisses her, like it's the first time and like it's the last time, as if he's been waiting all his life to kiss her and all they have is now, all they have left is _them_.

She slides out of her heels, forcing him to lean closer to her because of the lost height, and as she reaches for his arms, he slides them over her sides, holding her waist against him in fear of her slipping away from him. She caresses his lips softly with hers and she can feel his passion when he returns her kiss.

She can still feel his confusion, in the way he's trying to be gentle with her, but there's an urge to his touch that makes her lose her senses. Before she knows it, he's moved them to the bed and he's lying on top of her, arms on each side of her face, kissing her like he might never get to kiss her again.

She feels out of control, almost besides herself with excitement and anticipation, and she doesn't know who of the two is more surprised when she hooks her leg around his waist, pushing her hips into his, making him gasp.

"I need you," she breathes into his ear, as softly as she can, because if it's a whisper maybe it doesn't count as much, maybe it's not _binding_ , maybe she can take it back.

He stops kissing her and looks into her eyes then, and she knows she's being unfair, she can see in his face that he wants to know, _needs_ to know what they're doing, but she's not ready to give him an answer.

He shakes his head side to side, and when he catches her confused look, he presses a kiss against her forehead.

"You wanted me to show you," he says against her cheek.

So he gets up from the bed, removes his clothes and then hers, and soon, he's pulling the covers on top of them. He kisses her everywhere, not leaving a single patch of her skin untouched by his lips, and her eyes are begging, pleading with him, and he wants to give her everything he has, everything he owns, everything he is.

He gets that feeling again, that feeling of being so mad it makes him want to hate her, but when her eyes close and she bites her lip, he moves closer to her and presses his lips against hers, soothing her as much as he can. Her eyes open again and they're shimmering, so he moves behind her and wraps his arms around her, pressing his chest against her bare back.

"Hey," he whispers, "I've got you."

He hears those three little words resonating in his mind, and he feels so moved to be with her that it's almost impossible to keep them in. So he presses his lips against her shoulder to keep quiet, and when she turns her face to look at him, he kisses her, putting everything he has in it, because if she won't let him say it, then he will show her.

He locks her in his arms, pulling the covers tight around them.

Later, when he feels her calm down next to him, he moves on top of her and lets his lips travel over her body again, only stopping when her breath starts to hitch. He makes his kisses soft, tender, dragging his lips over the most sensitive parts of her, and when her breaths turn to moans, he moves on top of her and waits for her to guide him. She lets him set a rhythm and soon, it all gets too much for her to handle. She doesn't know if she's crying, but when he kisses the top of her cheeks, she knows he understands, and he slows down. Their bodies seem to know each other so well, words have become unnecessary. She breathes him in and kisses him again, because she can't get enough, so he starts moving faster. He laces his fingers with hers and presses kisses all over her lips until it's all too much, until she feels nothing and everything at once.

When he lets go, her sighs are the only thing he hears as everything around him goes pitch black.

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** Hi again! I hope this satisfied those of you who really wanted all the angst from the previous chapters to turn into something more for these two. We're not exactly there yet but I'm sure this is progress, especially on Alicia's side. Please let me know what you think. Also, if you have any ideas/suggestions, feel free to tell me about them; I always like knowing what you want to see happen for these two. I think we're getting close to the end of this story, there are probably two or three chapters left. Thank you for still being here. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note** : I'm so sorry, I'm the worst with updates. I really am. I apologize. I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thank you to all the people who still review, favorite and follow this story. I'm very glad the Willicia fandom lives on. A special thank you goes to my friend Grazi for helping me with this one. To all of you, I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Will wakes up from his daze to find his bed empty, but the light coming in from under the door tells him that Alicia is in the bathroom. Putting on his underwear, he gets up from the bed and walks to the bathroom.

"Hey," he says softly as he pushes the door open.

"Hey," she whispers. She's wearing her underwear and his t-shirt and it makes his chest tighten.

"Are you okay?" he asks, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah," she whispers, putting her phone down. "I have to go home," she says, watching him, waiting for his reaction.

He nods but stays quiet.

"Grace is on her own," she explains. "I don't like leaving her alone at night," she adds, justifying herself.

"Of course," he says, walking over to her, stopping just in front of her body.

"Will…" she starts, but he doesn't give her time. As gently as he can, he captures her lips between his and lets his hands rest on her hips. Unexpectedly, she replies by deepening the kiss, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

He slowly lifts her up so she sits on the bathroom counter and he stands in between her legs, never breaking contact with her lips. He lets her take whatever affection she needs from him, because he knows there's nothing he wouldn't give her anyway. His hands travel to the naked skin on the small of her back and he pulls her closer to him, deepening their kiss.

She sighs against his lips, her naked thighs tightening against his hips, keeping him close. He doesn't want to pressure her into anything, so he softly pulls away, brushing the hair behind her ears. But he knows that the simple fact that she came to him searching for comfort in the middle of the night was her way of crossing the boundaries that she had created for them. For tonight, he's fine with leaving it on her terms.

"Do you have your car?" he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"No," she shakes her head, "I took a cab."

He plants another kiss on her forehead. "I'll drive you home."

She shakes her head again, hands on his arms. "Will, I can take a cab."

"I know you can," he says, looking into her eyes. "But it's late. I can drive you."

"Will…"

"Don't fight me on this, please?" he asks, and she knows she should, because it's late and he doesn't need to miss any more sleep. But mostly, and she would never tell him this even though she's pretty sure he already knows, she doesn't want anyone seeing them together this late at night.

Nevertheless, she lets him press his lips against hers, and in the few minutes after he lets her go so they can both get dressed, she realizes she misses his touch already.

She lets him drive her home.

* * *

It's past one in the morning when Alicia slides the key into the door of her apartment. Zach is spending the night at his friend's house and she hopes to find Grace asleep.

"Where were you?"

She muffles a scream as she turns around in surprise.

"Peter," she exhales, finding her breath. "You scared me."

He moves around the kitchen aisle, slowly walking in her direction.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, setting her coat and purse away.

"Grace let me in. I came by at eleven, she didn't know where you were."

Alicia sighs, gathering the last of her patience, and faces Peter. "I left her a message saying I'd be in later. Look, Peter, I'm tired—"

"Where were you?" he asks again, his voice low, his eyes piercing.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she answers, as calmly as she can.

He moves until he stands right in front of her. "Were you with Will?"

She shakes her head, refusing to answer his question. "Go home, Peter."

"Alicia," he says, his tone almost threatening. "You're my _wife_."

She chuckles then, careful to keep it low so as to not wake up Grace. "And look how well that turned out for me."

He stares into her eyes and out of the corner of her eyes, she sees him clench his fist. Still, he stays quiet.

"It's over, Peter. Let it go."

She casts a look in the direction of Grace's room, and back to Peter. He's visibly unnerved.

"What about the kids?" he asks, louder now.

"No, Peter. No," she says, resolute. "You don't get to play that card."

"You're being selfish," he retorts.

"No, Peter, _you're_ being selfish. I'm done putting your satisfaction before mine."

"I'm not asking you to do that. I just want to try and make it work."

"Peter," she exhales. "I don't know how to make it work. I wish I did, but—"

"It's not that you don't know, it's that you don't _want_ to make it work."

Alicia sighs, exasperated. "You know what, that may be true. Maybe I don't want to make it work. Maybe I don't want to be _just_ your wife anymore. I did that for too long, and I'm _done_ ," she says, moving around him and into her bedroom.

She closes the door behind her and waits.

First she hears nothing, and then she hears the door close.

She sighs.

As she turns around to pull her pajamas from under the covers, she thinks she really needs to get some sleep.

"Mom?"

Alicia turns around, startled. Her daughter is standing at her door, her brows furrowed, her lips tight.

"Grace," she starts, moving towards the door. "What are you doing up so late?"

"You and Dad were fighting," she says, softly.

Alicia sighs. "You heard that?"

Her daughter nods, a soft pout on her lips.

Alicia sits on the end of her bed, gesturing for her daughter to follow her. When Grace sits next to her, she wraps an arm around her, holding her close.

"Are you guys getting a divorce?"

Alicia frowns. "No— I don't know, it's not…" she sighs. "I'm sorry you heard that."

"It's okay," Grace says.

"No, it's not, I—" Alicia takes her head in her hands, sighing heavily. "Grace, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

She looks up to her daughter. "I'm sorry this is such a mess. I'm trying to keep you and your brother out of this but—"

"Mom, really," Grace interrupts. "It's okay."

Alicia watches her daughter, amazed at how much she has grown, probably faster than she should have, faster than Alicia would have wanted. She pulls her into her arms and Grace lets herself be held, wrapping her arms around her mother's waist.

"Is it because of what Dad did to you?" Grace asks, hesitantly.

Alicia breathes in heavily. "It's partly because of what he did. And some other things."

"Zach told him that was a stupid thing to do."

Alicia pulls away, frowning. "What?!"

"A few weeks ago, Dad couldn't pick us up after classes and Zach had to drive us to his apartment. He apologized for the whole situation and Zach told him he shouldn't apologize to us, he should apologize to you. And he told him he was stupid for doing what he did to you."

Alicia blinks in disbelief. "What did your father say?"

"I thought he was going to be mad at Zach for calling him stupid," Grace starts, "but he wasn't. He said he was sorry for the mess he had created and that he had been stupid, that you didn't deserve to be hurt like this and that we should be nice to you and take care of you. That was just before your birthday. That's when I decided to bake a cake, because you were going to be alone for the whole weekend and we felt bad."

"No, Grace," Alicia sighs, the guilt filling her heart. "I don't want you to feel bad when you're with your father. I'm alright. I mean, I miss you both so much when you're gone, but I'm fine. I keep busy."

"With what?"

"Well, sometimes I have some work I need to do. Or you know, things around the house."

"Do you hang out with your friends?"

Alicia smiles. "Yes. Sometimes."

Grace raises her eyebrows questioningly.

"I saw your uncle last weekend."

"Owen is not your friend," Grace starts. "He's your brother."

"Yes. Well, I have other friends, but look," she says with a smile, "it appears it's time for you to go back to bed."

Grace frowns but gets up, resigned.

"Grace?" Alicia calls. "You're good, right?"

The young girl looks up questioningly. "Yeah, Mom. I'm good."

"Are you happy?"

"I am," Grace answers. "Are you?"

"I'm happy if you're happy," Alicia answers.

"Me too," she smiles.

It's late in the night when Alicia finally goes to bed. She doesn't find sleep very easily that night.

* * *

 **Author's note** : Some Peter/Alicia fighting in this one, but some Will/Alicia fluff as well, which I hope you enjoyed. I'm almost done with the next chapter so hopefully that'll be up soon (and by soon I mean, not in 2043). I know I said last time that there would only be a couple of chapters left, but actually there might be more. We'll see. Thanks again for reading, feel free to review with comments/ideas, I'm always glad to read your thoughts! - hannahorgrace


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Going back to work on Monday morning is both a relief and a source of anxiety. Alicia is happy to have something to keep her mind busy, but she dreads the moment she's going to run into Will.

She's not ready to see him yet.

She knows they have to talk, she can't keep acting the way she has for the past couple of weeks, pushing him away and then going to him in the middle of the night when she needs comfort.

She knows in her heart that her and Peter are a lost cause. Owen was right, it has nothing to do with Will. Even if he wasn't there, she would still feel out of place with Peter, hurt and betrayed in a way she knows is impossible to fix.

But what about Will?

She and Peter are still married. Will is still her boss.

How can she find a way to make it work?

She's considered asking for divorce, but no matter how she feels about Peter, she can't bring herself to do anything that would harm him, politically. She believes in him, and she doesn't think that their personal issues should tarnish his professional life.

But it would be incredibly selfish to impose that on Will.

In the end, it's not until Thursday that she sees him, when he comes back from court as she's about to leave.

He steps into her office as she turns off her computer and when he closes the door behind him, she feels the stress build slowly in her stomach.

"Hey," he says softly.

"Hi Will," she answers, offering a smile.

"How was your weekend?" he asks.

"Good, thank you," she says, unable to make small talk. "You?"

"Same," he answers, approaching her desk.

She stares into his eyes, waiting for him, dreading the words he might say next.

"Alicia," he starts, his eyes finding hers. Her leg moves, restless, and she knows he catches the involuntary reaction. "We need to talk."

She nods, but no words come out. She tries to maintain her eyes on him, tries to keep her composure.

"So," he continues, clearing his throat, and she knows he's as nervous as she is. "If you can, maybe we can get dinner tonight?"

She sighs. "I can't tonight, I have the kids."

"Right," he nods. "Well. Whenever you can is fine. Let me know?" he asks, walking backwards until he reaches her office door.

"Of course," she says softly, intrigued.

He says goodnight and walks out, closing the door behind him.

She frowns. Considering how indecisive and unfair she has been, she never expected him to give her that much leeway in when they should—

She breathes in suddenly, understanding.

He's giving her space.

She looks up in relief, alleviated.

That same night, after Zach and Grace are in bed and she's cleaned the dishes, she grabs her phone and dials Will's number.

He answers on the first ring.

He doesn't press her for anything, doesn't ask questions. He lets her lead the conversation.

"I've been horrible to you," she says, after a few minutes.

"Alicia…" he starts, but she doesn't let him finish.

"No, Will, I have. You've been—" she chokes on the words, unable to go through with the sentence.

"It's okay," he whispers, and she almost gets upset.

"It's not okay. I can't keep doing this to you."

He doesn't answer, afraid of understanding what she might mean.

"I don't know where I am anymore. I come home thinking there's no way I can ever divorce Peter, and then I see you and I—" she exhales, trying to gain back some composure.

Will listens to her, quietly. He knows there's not much he can offer at this point. He just wishes she would make a decision.

"Will?" she asks, when the silence becomes too heavy.

"Yeah," he answers.

"What was in the voicemail?"

He frowns, and even though she can't see him, he senses that she noticed the change in him.

"What do you mean?"

"The voicemails you left me, about a year and a half ago. I know there were two, but I only heard one."

"I told you what I said," he tries, knowing full well she won't believe him. But maybe she won't push for more.

"I know," she says softly. "But that wasn't true, was it?"

He smiles. "Why would you say that?" he asks, curious as to how she would know he hadn't been honest with her.

"Last year," she tries again, "there was that case on your friend, Matthew Wade? I had to listen to hours of recordings of his phone conversations, and there was one where the two of you spoke. I couldn't hear everything because of the 2518 minimization, but… you talked about me, didn't you?"

Will chuckles. "I don't really remember," he says, honestly, "but it's possible, yeah."

"You said you left me two messages, but I never answered. Will, I never got them. I mean, I heard one of them for the first time that day, but I never got the other one."

There's a few seconds of silence before he speaks. "Which one did you hear?"

"The one where you said we should move on."

Will sighs. "Why are you asking now?"

"I asked before," she says, "but I don't think you were completely honest."

He's quiet for a few seconds, considering her request. She's right; he wasn't completely honest before.

"Will?" she tries, softly.

"Yeah?"

"What did you say?"

He closes his eyes, heart heavy in his chest. "I said I loved you."

She's quiet on the other side of the line, so he continues.

"And that if you wanted, we could meet, and make a plan, figure things out."

He hears her breathe, but she stays quiet.

"Did you really not get that voicemail?" he asks.

She shakes her head and, realizing he can't see her,

"No," she says softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

She continues. "Why did you lie to me when I came to you about it the first time?"

He smiles. "Same reason you didn't say anything when you realized I was lying, I guess."

She shakes her head. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to make you say something you didn't want to say."

"Well," he starts, "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to tell you something you didn't want to hear."

She sighs. "We're terrible at this, aren't we?"

He laughs. "We really are."

There's another pause.

"Will?" she asks, but doesn't wait for his answer. "How do you feel now?"

He frowns. "You know how I feel."

She smiles. "Do I?"

"Yeah," he answers, "you do. You wouldn't have asked me what was in the voicemail if you didn't already know."

She smiles. Another pause.

"Alicia—"

"I can't," she interrupts. "Will, I can't, I just—"

"You see," he starts, his voice full of irony, "that's where the problem is. That's a lie, right there."

"What?" she frowns.

"You _can_ do whatever you want, Alicia. If only you wanted to."

She gasps. "Will, that's not— it's not about what I want."

"It's _only_ about what you want."

"You don't get it, I—"

"You have a family, I know. You're my employee, I _know_. It doesn't matter, Alicia—"

"Of course it matters! We can't—"

"No, it doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to give up either of these things."

"Then what do you want, Will?!"

He sighs. "If you can't figure it out, then maybe you're right," he says, his voice dropping. "Maybe we can't— maybe it's not supposed to be this way."

She feels her heart beat faster. The words are out of her mouth before she can control herself, "Maybe it isn't."

He sighs. "I have to go, it's getting late."

She smirks. "Yeah, me too," she says, hanging up the phone before he can say more.

* * *

The following day, the walk from the entrance of the building to the elevator seems to be one of the longest of her life. That is until she steps into the elevator and waits for it to go up the 28 floors that separate her from the Lockhart/Gardner offices, her heart threatening to break out of her ribcage, the ride quickly becoming the definite longest of her entire life.

She tries to calm down, taking in deep breaths, resting her head against the wall of the elevator, closing her eyes.

When he sees her, his head shooting up in her direction, he drops the files that are in his hands. He's hesitant at first, but then he sees the look in her eyes and stands up, moving in her direction, and he _knows_.

She's barely stepped into his office when she speaks, closing the door behind her. Her voice is low, trembling.

"I'm sorry," she breathes, and she can't control the break in her voice because his arms wrap around her and it's all too much, but she doesn't want to be composed anymore. "I'm so sorry."

He doesn't say a word but his arms are around her, holding her tight, stroking her back, caressing her hair in an attempt to soothe her. She's quiet in his arms, standing still, but he can hear her breathing in sharply as she slides her arms around him, holding on. "Will, I'm so sorry," she repeats in a whisper, the words lost in their embrace.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows they're not alone. He's grateful for the late hour, meaning that apart from him and Diane, the only other people left in the office are on the lower floor.

Alicia's breath is warm against his neck and he doesn't want to break their embrace, but he needs to look at her.

"What made you change your mind?" he asks, pulling her gently away so he can look into her eyes.

"I didn't," she whispers, her eyes shimmering with tears. The words come to her before she can stop them. "I already knew."

His eyes close and he swallows, in an attempt to keep his emotions under control, but she's right there in front of him and he lets his arms circle her frame once again.

She knows they're being watched but she has no willpower to stop him anymore.

Her fingers find the hair at the back of his neck as he holds her close, as close to him as he possibly can, fighting the urge to kiss her. He knows Diane is watching, and although their attitude leaves little to the imagination, he doesn't want to cross that line.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, arms strong around her waist.

She nods against his neck. "Yes," she breathes.

She wants to say more to him, because it doesn't seem to be enough, but it doesn't feel as though this is the right place. She pulls away softly, bringing her arms down to her sides, then straightening her skirt and jacket.

"I have to speak with Diane," he ventures.

She nods, barely noticeable.

"When are you leaving?" he asks.

"Now," she starts. "I have to drive Grace and Zach to Peter's apartment for the weekend."

He nods. "Meet me at my place afterwards?"

She smiles. "I'll be there."

* * *

"I want to yell at you but for some reason I don't seem to have the willpower to do so," Diane says as he closes the door to her office.

Will is quiet. He doesn't know what to tell her. He doesn't want to put up a fight tonight.

"You're lucky I was the only one here. If anyone else had seen you I would have had to fire you both."

He pulls a chair and sits down.

"How serious are you about this, Will?" Diane asks, her voice low.

"Very," he mutters.

She leans back in her chair. "What about her?" she asks, looking at him over her glasses.

Will doesn't answer, but keeps staring at Diane.

She sighs. "Of all the women in Chicago." She declares with a cold sarcasm to her voice.

"I didn't choose it, Diane," he answers, his tone almost solemn.

She smiles ironically. "You could have chosen not to sleep with a married woman."

He leans in closer, eyebrows frowned, his tone very serious. "It's not that simple."

Diane removes her glasses, laying them on the desk in front of her. "It is that simple, Will. When they're married, you restrain yourself."

"It's not about sex, Diane," he says, staring into her eyes.

She laughs ironically. "Of course it's not. You suddenly decided the only woman deserving of your attention is the wife of the state's attorney. It's all very Tristan and Iseult, if you ask me."

He doesn't answer, and instead turns to look into his office. Alicia's on the phone, but he can't make out what she's saying or who she's talking to, although he imagines it's one of her children.

"The people here can't know, Will," Diane starts again.

"They won't," he confirms

"How can you be sure? There were rumors before, and this doesn't look good, whether it is—"

"Because I'm not gonna let it happen," Will interrupts. "And she won't either."

"And what if it does happen?" Diane asks, the concern clear in her eyes.

"Then I'll leave."

"Will—"

"This is important to me."

"And your firm isn't important?" she asks, eyes wide.

"Of course it is. That's why I'll make sure no one finds out. Trust me, Diane."

She chuckles. "Do I have a choice?"

He smiles. "Not really."

* * *

He feels a wave of relief when he opens the door and Alicia is on the other side.

As soon as she's inside, she reaches for him, and he wraps his arms around her as she tucks her head in the crook of his neck.

"I think we need to talk," she whispers against his skin.

He nods. "I know," he breathes into her hair.

They stay like this until he feels her lips on his skin, so he lifts her up and carries her to his couch. Sitting her down, he pushes the coat off her shoulders and presses his lips against the skin of her neck, just above her clavicle, nibbling softly.

She brings a hand to the back of his head, holding him against her. He works his way up until he finds her lips and kisses her, her hand still behind his neck, stopping only when he feels her pull away to catch her breath.

"Will—"

"I know," he interrupts her. She sits up against him and he presses his forehead to hers. "I know."

She moves to rest her forehead on his shoulder and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close.

If only he could have her with him like this every day.

He feels her chest rise and fall slowly as she breathes and he wonders if she's dozed off.

"I'm so tired," she mumbles against his skin.

"I know," he whispers, running his hand up and down her back.

And he gets an idea. "Hey," he murmurs, hand on her arm. "Let's go away," he whispers.

She sits up straight, a frown on her eyebrows. "What?"

"For the weekend," he starts, eyes hopeful like she's never seen before. "Let's go," he smiles.

"Will…" she says, her voice full of remorse already.

"No, listen," he interrupts. "You said Zach and Grace are with Peter, maybe we could go just for the weekend, and we'll be back before your kids are back."

He smiles, a light in his eyes, and she can't help but get excited.

"We said we needed to talk," she retorts, voice low and serious.

"I know, and we will."

She sighs, a slight smile betraying her already.

"Come on, Alicia," he smiles. "Look," he explains, as if he hasn't just thought of this two minutes ago. "We leave tonight, somewhere not far, and spend Saturday there — wherever you want — and then we come back on Sunday night."

"I can't come back on Sunday night, Peter is going to Springfield and he said he'd bring the kids back home sometime during the afternoon."

"Fine," he says, a wide smile on his face. "We come back on Sunday morning."

She smiles. "Where would we go?"

She can see he's having a hard time containing his excitement. It reminds her of when they were younger, they would spend hours studying for an exam, and this is precisely what he looked like when he could finally convince her to go out for a drink or just for a walk, to clear their minds.

"I don't care," he answers. "Anywhere."

She nods, looks down, lets her lip curl up in a half-smile.

"And we'd be back on Sunday morning?"

"I promise," he answers almost immediately.

She raises her head, finds his warm eyes looking at her intently, waiting.

"Okay," she says.

He smiles wide when she answers and, without hesitation, pulls her in for a kiss. He lets his lips linger against hers, lets her open her mouth to him before capturing her lip between his and nibbling playfully.

"You go back home and pack something, and I'll meet you there in an hour, alright?" he says, before she has time to change her mind.

He gets up from the couch, pulling her up with him.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"I don't know. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know, this was your idea," she smiles.

He chuckles. "I'll figure something out then."

* * *

 **Author's note :** First of all, I would like to thank everyone who is still here with me on this adventure. Thank you to those who read, review, favorite and follow this story, it means the world. I try to reply to all of your reviews; some of you write anonymously or are not logged in onto the site so unfortunately I can't reply to you directly, but I'm very grateful for your reviews! Thank you again to my friend Grazi who was a great help with this chapter. There will be one more chapter to this story and then we will have reached the end. However, I am planning on writing a sequel, but maybe not just now. I'll let you know! Hopefully I'll have the next (and last) chapter up next week. Thanks again for reading! - hannahorgrace


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note** : This chapter will be the last one. Please check the author's note below for more information about a possible sequel. I really hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you to everyone who followed this story, I'm infinitely grateful. - hannahorgrace

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

"You don't know how many times I've imagined doing this," he says, out of nowhere. "Back in Georgetown."

Will is lying on the bed, head up against the headboard, hands on Alicia's hips. She's leaning against him, lips softly pressed against his as he kisses her delicately.

He's never told her before, how he imagined their first time would be. He had about 68 different scenarios for it, evolving from slow and caring to fast and passionate.

"Yeah?" she asks, eyes searching for his, curious.

"Oh yeah," he says, between kisses. "You kept me up at night and you didn't even know," he murmurs against her skin.

Because the truth is, she did keep him up at night. He'd spend hours thinking about her, thinking about what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to touch her, to—

"I did too," she whispers, almost as if she's speaking to herself.

"What?" he asks, not sure what she's referring to.

"Think about what it would be like", she says, staring right into his eyes, waiting for his reaction. When none comes, she adds, "You and me."

He's taken aback. He had always imagined them being together, kissing, holding each other, making love all night and again in the morning, struggling to leave the bed, failing to arrive on time for Tax Law. But he'd never thought of _her_ thinking of _them_.

That was a whole new level of turn on for him.

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes shining with lust and a newfound passion for her imagination. "Like what?"

She stares into his eyes and he looks back, all warm and tender and chocolate, it's enough to get her to confess.

"I always imagined us sitting in the back of an empty classroom, I don't know why. For some reason, it always started like that."

"Always?" he repeats, and after considering it for a second, he grasps the fact that this little fantasy of hers is not a single occurrence but rather something she thought of several times. He pictures a young Alicia, lying in bed, eyes closed, one hand clutching the covers, images of them together running through her mind, and he has to take a deep breath in order to stay focused.

"Yeah," she confirms, and she sees the effect her story has on him. Her lips slowly move into a soft smile as she goes on.

"You'd be talking about some test we'd just had, explaining to me how you did so well on the essay, an analysis of some Supreme Court case, but I wouldn't really be paying attention. I'd just be looking at you and thinking of what you would do if I kissed you, right there and then. It was a curiosity thing, you know? I just wanted to take you by surprise, I guess."

He sighs, letting his fingers travel from her neck to the small of her back. "God, baby, I wish you had."

She laughs. He lets his other hand run through her hair, brushing a strand behind her ear.

"I did", she adds softly. "Well, in my head. There was this time when we were studying at night, I think it was before Criminal Procedure or something? I was so nervous, I don't know why, I had this feeling that I kept reading, learning, trying to memorize and yet, I felt like I remembered _nothing_ , you know?"

Will laughs, because he knows exactly what she means. Alicia had always been a good student, but every night before an exam, she would go crazy, pacing in her apartment, sometimes his, worrying about not being able to remember anything she'd learned.

"Right, I know," he says, pressing kisses to her clavicle, as if he was back there, trying to calm her down.

"Anyway, after you left, I couldn't stop thinking about…

Putting words on it isn't so easy, the memory being decades away, and she doesn't feel as comfortable, sharing the intimacy of her private musings with him.

"I just thought of how it made me feel, when you were sitting next to me. I thought of what it would feel like if we kissed. I imagined you'd wrap your arms around me and pull me onto your lap and we would just… kiss." Her voice drops down a little, not yet a whisper but quiet enough that he realizes how intimate it feels for her, sharing this with him.

"And then?" he asks softly.

"And then, you'd lift me in your arms, I think." Will closes his eyes as she shares her memory of a fantasy she once had. Again, he thinks of a young Alicia, barely over twenty, in his arms, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, lips pressed against his, demanding.

Slowly, he pulls himself into a sitting position and, dragging her with him, pulls her onto his lap. She's wearing nothing but her underwear and a t-shirt she uses for sleeping, and he's in his boxers which, in regard to his current state, leave little to the imagination. Her arms naturally wrap around him and he touches his forehead to hers.

"And then?" he murmurs, her face so close to his he can feel her warm breath as she exhales.

"Then," she whispers, dropping her voice as much as she can, "that's it, that's all I have for you, Mr. Gardner."

He chuckles against her mouth, then slides his arm around the small of her back and gently lays her down on the bed, his body following so he's hovering above her.

"Liar," he breathes, before capturing her bottom lip and nibbling gently. She laughs, so he moves away.

"This story is unacceptable," he starts, pretending to move away from her. "I didn't come all the way to Canada to hear _that_."

* * *

"Will, where are we going?"

They'd been in the car for over twenty minutes and he still had given her absolutely no indication on where he was taking her.

"Just trust me," he says, taking her hand in his.

"I do trust you," she answers, "but we just passed the sign for O'Hare and I've been told that that's where the airport is," she adds, attempting humor. "I have to be back on Sunday, Will."

"I know," he smiles. "And you will."

When they reach the check-in lines at the airport and Will pulls out both his and her passport out of his pocket, she gasps.

"Will, seriously—"

"Please trust me?" he asks. "You'll know soon enough."

"Yes, but I want to know now. If something happens to the kids while I'm gone, and—"

"Nothing will happen while you're gone, Alicia," he says, stepping closer to her. He doesn't grab her hand though, doesn't put a reassuring arm around her, because he doesn't know who might be watching.

"Will you please just tell me?" she asks, voice low, eyes pleading.

She looks at him like that and his willpower dissolves instantly.

"Fine," he sighs. "I got us tickets to Montreal. It's only a two-hour flight from Chicago, I already got us the return tickets for Sunday morning, and I checked, there's a flight from Montreal to Chicago tomorrow at 4 pm, and another one that leaves Quebec to Chicago tomorrow night at 8.30, in case you need to be back earlier."

Alicia stands there, mouth slightly open, eyes searching his.

"We're going to Canada?" she asks.

"Yes," Will answers. "I believe that's where Montreal is."

She doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at him, a hint of a smile drawing itself on her lips.

"Is that okay?" he asks, a bit concerned.

"Yes," she nods, smiling softly. "It's good," she says, grabbing her suitcase and walking towards the check-in line.

* * *

She had missed waking up all wrapped up in a warm tangle of covers and Will's arms around her. He was still sleeping when she opened her eyes, so she took the time to check her phone. She considered writing a message to Zach, to make sure everything was going well, but she decided against it. No matter what had happened between them, she trusted Peter with their children, and even with his busy schedule, he enjoyed spending weekends with Zach and Grace and always made time for them.

"Hey…"

Her thoughts were interrupted by Will's raspy, morning voice.

"Hey," she says, putting her phone down and turning to him. "So, what are we doing today, Mr. Gardner?" she asks as he moves closer to her under the covers.

"Hmm," he mumbles, lips soft against the skin of her shoulder. "Hopefully nothing," he suggests, finding her lips with his.

After arriving at the hotel the previous night, they had only taken the time to shower before going to bed and falling asleep almost immediately.

So when Will moves his still sleepy form to hover over her body and captures her lips with his, she doesn't hesitate long before hooking her leg around him to bring him closer.

"I missed you," she whispers, the morning daze leaving her a little less careful than she usually is.

He slides a hand under her shirt, feeling her silky skin, gaining a soft sigh from her. "I missed you too," he says, lips on her neck.

It's all slow and lazy at first, until she starts tugging at his lower lip with her teeth and her sighs softly turn into low moans.

He lets his fingers caress the back of her thigh and then pulls her leg up gently. In return, she answers by getting rid of both their underwear and then she breathes out, long and heavy, as he pushes into her.

"You okay?" he asks, lips traveling from her ear to her clavicle.

"Mmh," she murmurs, eyes closed, and he makes a mental picture of the scene. "You feel good," she adds.

He kisses her lips and moves until she cries out, hands clutching at his back, leg hooked around his waist, taking him with her.

After, she holds him still above her, even when he tries to move because he doesn't want to crush her. She asks him not to move, says she likes to feel his weight on her.

He kisses her shoulder, laces their fingers together.

Closing his eyes, he prays she doesn't change her mind again.

They spend most of the morning in the bedroom, and most of the afternoon sightseeing. They walk throughout Old Montreal, visit the Notre-Dame Basilica, where he watches her watch the stained glass and for a second, he forgets they're in a church, so he stands behind her, wraps his arms around her and plants a lingering kiss in the crook of her neck. She reprimands him by frowning at him, almost like she's silently scolding him, so he lets her go and just grabs her hand instead, smiling.

When they walk outside the basilica, he cleans his sunglasses with the bottom of his t-shirt before putting them on, and she surprises him with a deep, lingering kiss that has him fighting for air in a matter of seconds.

They walk up to Mount Royal to see the landscape, and when she gives her phone to a stranger and asks the man to take a picture of her and Will, he feels his heart tighten at the idea that this impromptu trip with her is ending tomorrow. So he slides his arm behind her back and she leans closer to him, her arm sliding behind him as well.

In the park, they sit on the grass and enjoy the sun. She pulls out a magazine she picked up at the airport so he decides to take a nap and turns to lay on his stomach. As she sits next to him, he feels her caressing his back ever so softly with the tips on her fingers, and he thinks he's never been so relaxed in his entire life. He falls asleep almost immediately.

Later, when she's woken him up from his afternoon nap by delicately running her fingers through his hair, they decide to go back to the hotel and change before dinner.

They make love in the shower, and they spend such a long time in the bathroom they wonder how it's still not dark when they come out.

"Will?" she calls his name, as he comes out of the bathroom.

"Yes?"

He looks up to her, and she's smiling, but there's something in her eyes that he doesn't quite like.

"I think we should talk," she says. She's wearing a simple black dress that hugs her waist but is flared at the bottom, and she's sitting on the bed, legs crossed under her, hair rolled up in a towel to dry.

Will moves to sit on the bed next to her. "I know."

"So," she starts, her voice a little higher than usual, in an attempt to lighten the mood. She doesn't even know where to start. The fact that he's her boss and she's an employee in his firm, and she doesn't want anyone at work to know about the two of them, because then any promotion she gets might be considered a benefit from sleeping with the boss, instead of something she worked hard for and deserved? The fact that she's married and that, even if she intends to make it clear with Peter that they're separated, and probably talk about divorcing him at some point, it doesn't change that she's still married and that she's breaking her marriage vows just by being here with Will? The fact that she has two children, who probably look up to her to some extent, who depend on her, and what if they find out that their mother is having an extramarital affair with her boss?

"We're good together," Will says suddenly. "I don't want to feel like this with anyone else. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to."

She smiles softly, eyes a little sad, so he takes her hand in his. "We're good together," he repeats.

"I know," she whispers. "I'm going to talk to Peter when we get back, but… I don't like this. The situation I mean, it's not… "

He sighs. "I know," he says, playing with the hem of the bed sheets. "What does he know?"

"Peter?" she asks. He nods but stays quiet. "I'm not sure," she continues. "I think he suspects something, but I never told him anything. Not before, and not now," she sighs. "But I told him it was over between us. Him and I, I mean."

Will nods. He wonders if she's going to ask for a divorce, but she doesn't mention it, and he's not sure he wants to be the one to bring it up.

"What about your children?" he asks.

"Well," she starts, uncrossing her legs from under her. "I don't know what to tell them. I hate all the lying, but I can't say anything until I've figured things out with Peter," she says, moving the towel around her hair, unwrapping it. Her hair is damp and falls above her shoulders, wavy from being wrapped in the towel. She fixes her bangs with her fingers.

"What about work?" she asks. "What did Diane say?"

He looks down. "Nothing."

Alicia frowns. "Nothing?"

"No," he answers.

Alicia moves closer towards him, leaning so she can find his gaze. "Will?" she murmurs.

He sighs. "She already knew," he says, looking into her eyes. "Well, she knew from before, and then it was over, and now…"

"Is she upset?" she asks, her tone concerned.

"Well," he starts, "she's not overcome with joy," he says, making Alicia breathe out with worry, "but she'll come around."

She shakes her head from side to side, breathing out heavily. "This is—"

"No, hey," he interrupts her, taking both her hands in his. "Alicia, don't," he says softly. "It's fine."

"It's not fine, Will—"

"Okay," he cuts her off again. "It's not fine," he pauses. "But it will be."

She looks into his brown, caring eyes, and she wants to trust him, all she wants is to believe it will be fine, because when he looks at her like that, it feels as if everything in her turns inside out and yet it feels as if everything really _is_ going to be fine. Better than fine.

She puts her arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around her chest, pulling her closer. Her head rests against his shoulder and his hand brushes her hair softly.

"I don't want this to end," she says softly, looking out the window.

"Me neither," he confirms, pressing his lips against the top of her head. "I can't believe we have to go back tomorrow already."

She pulls away from him, straightening her hair. "I didn't mean just the weekend," she says, hesitant at first, but then, "I meant, I don't want…"

She doesn't want to be anyway from him anymore. She wants to be with him. Every day of her life, she wants to wake up next to him and fall asleep in his arms, she wants him to look at her when he smiles because she wants to make him happy just like he does for her.

She wants him to be there when she comes home at night, or she wants him to sneak under the covers and wrap his arms around her when he comes home late at night and she's already sleeping. She wants him to wake her up then, just so she can see his face and let it warm her heart before sleep finds her again.

Words are hard, because she knows they don't always carry the truth. They make promises but people break promises, they create trust but what's left of trust when it's impossible to know what is the truth and what is a lie? How can she look at Will and not know when, or if, she'll ever be able to trust again?

"You know I'm always going to want to be with you, right?" he asks, pulling her out of her reverie.

She smiles at him.

Love.

That's what will make her trust again.

* * *

 **Author's note** **:** I hope this last chapter lived up to your expectations. I am **so** grateful to all the people who read, reviewed, followed and favorited this story, whether you were here from the first chapter or you are just joining us now. Thank you all so much. Reading your reviews is what made me keep going, so a special thank you to the readers who reviewed frequently and gave me detailed insight into what you thought. A big thank you as well to my friends Grazi and Irene for helping me write this story.

As mentioned in the author's note above, I am actually writing a sequel to this. However, it won't be posted right away as I want to work more on it and write a few chapters before I start uploading it, so that you won't have to wait so long in between updates like you did for this one (sorry again for the insanely long wait in between some chapters). I am also writing another Will/Alicia story that takes place during the Georgetown era, kind of like my **Bliss** story (check it out if you haven't yet!). If you are interested in either of these stories, the sequel or the Georgetown era one, please let me know which one you'd be more interested in reading first. Also, make sure to follow me so that you know when I start uploading. And if anyone is interested in being a beta reader, please let me know!

Also, let me know what you thought about this chapter, and/or the story as a whole. Again, thank you so much for reading and for your continued support! (and sorry for the crazy long note) - hannahorgrace


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